


I'll always choose you

by Pendra_Mods



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3669102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pendra_Mods/pseuds/Pendra_Mods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Nanda Parbat, Felicity has a choice to make, and Oliver has to make her see how much he needs her. Basically, thank God, let's finally get some sexy-times going before we all die from sexual tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll always choose you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [callistawolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callistawolf/gifts).



> Very first fanfic, so the formatting is probably all wonky, and be kind, pretty please. =)

 

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, sounding much more Arrow than Oliver Queen.

Felicity picked up one of the jeweled pillows decorating the head of her bed, and held it against her chest. Their bed? Crap. She didn’t even know anymore. Nanda Parbat had her questioning…everything. Even their room, draped in maroon velvets, and lit by candlelight, was beautiful, and given the guards waiting to carry out Ra’s threat, dangerous. “I’m pretty sure when Ra’s said, ‘marry Al Saheem or die,’ he didn’t mean, or ignore me and I’ll just put down this giant sword.”

Oliver pushed off the stone wall where he’d been leaning, but kept his arms crossed as the candlelight hugged the contours of his defined arms. “We’ll find another way.”

“How? You have to become the next Ra’s if you want to dismantle the League. You made that choice, and I chose to come here with you. Maybe if I’d known they didn’t have wifi, I would have second-guessed that option, but seeing as I’m wanted as your accomplice in Starling City, here I am. But that doesn’t mean I want to be Mrs. Demon’s head, or that you even want me to be.” She pulled the pillow closer, wishing it were something more solid. And electronic. And useful.

“Felicity.” He dropped his arms and moved toward her.

She shook her head. “Not that I wouldn’t have chosen you anyway, because let’s be honest, I’ve done nothing but choose you since you brought me that laptop. Ray laid down that ultimatum; I still chose you. Even when you’re telling me you’re not a choice, you’re my only choice—”

“Fel-i-city.”

“—But this takes that choice out of your hands, and we both know you would never choose to marry me on your own. You won’t even date me! Not that I blame you, look how that one ended up.” She threw the pillow back to the bed.

“Stop.” Oliver closed the distance between them and tilted her face towards his as he cradled it between his calloused hands. She swallowed, savoring the touch, yet scared to crave the feel of him on her skin. Scared to want him when all he’d done was tell her over and over how they couldn’t be together. “If you don’t want this, we’ll think of something, but this would keep you safe.” Did his voice drop another octave? God, he could melt panties with that voice. At least hers.

Those eyes bore into hers, always saying more than his words, devouring her soul one glance at a time until she’d become his in every way that mattered, mind and heart. But never body. “I don’t want this to be about keeping me safe, and I’m not marrying someone who doesn’t want me, big scary sword or not. If you’d ever shown a hint of wanting me enough to fight for us…” She dropped her eyes. “Oliver, if you wanted me, you would have fought for me. You’re already trapped in the League. I won’t let them chain you to me, too.”

Oliver sucked in his breath. He’d been almost relieved when Ra’s had made the demand, stating that her knowledge of the League was forbidden, that marrying Oliver was the only way he’d allow her to live. How could she think that he didn’t want her? That she’d be a trap—a burden? Or that he’d never wanted her? Because he’d been a fucking moron, and he’d never told her. He’d been so hell bent on keeping her body safe that he’d inadvertently sacrificed her heart. “I don’t…” She looked up at him, and his thoughts fled somewhere dangerous, where his hands wouldn’t only stay on her face. Where he’d see those blues close with his name on her lips and her body arching beneath him. He licked his lips and started again, “I don’t always do what I want, anymore. When I lived that way, I hurt people, and I refuse to hurt you. Trust me, wanting you has never been the issue. All I ever do is want you.” Shit. He’d actually said it.

Her lips parted, and his eyes dropped to them like a magnet, remembering the way she’d tasted sweeter than honey.

Raising up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his, refreshing his memory and shredding what was left of his tattered self-control. “Prove it,” she whispered against his mouth.

“What?” He pulled back slightly, unsure he’d heard her right over the rush of blood in his ears, the pounding of lust through his veins. Was she ever not going to challenge him? Probably not. It was one of the many reasons he’d fallen in love with her.

She raised her chin and pinned him with that I’m–going-to-get-my-way look. Damn it.

“Touch me. Now.”

Fuck, he’d never heard a hotter request. His body responded instantly, and his fingers swept backwards, tangling in the loose blonde strands. Every muscle in his body locked to keep from raising that skirt she had on and slamming into her. She deserved better than a quick fuck because someone had given her a twisted ultimatum. “Are you sure?” he asked slowly, carefully, like it was the most important question he’d ever asked. Because it was.

“I want one night where it’s just us. No League. No Arrow. No honor, or duty. Just you and me. We can sort the rest out in the morning. So put your hands on me, or don’t. But it’s time you choose.”

The last tether of his control snapped, and he took her mouth the way he’d fantasized about for far too long, licking along the seam of her lips until she gasped and let him in. Heaven. She tasted like heaven, and when she rubbed her tongue back along his, he felt it a hell of a lot lower than his mouth. He slanted her head to get a deeper angle, thoroughly exploring her, claiming her. His hands skimmed down her back, flicking open the button of her haltered-blouse on the way, and feathering over her spine until he held her phenomenal ass in hands. Finally. All the times his hands had itched to feel these curves, all the times he’d settled for nocking an arrow instead of knocking at her door, and now she was in his arms. It was almost too much. He groaned, the sound swallowed by their kiss, and he lifted her against him, bringing that incredibly soft body against his already hard one.

“Want doesn’t begin to describe what I feel for you, Felicity. Want was two years ago. This isn’t a choice, it’s a fucking need. I need you.”

A wicked smile danced across her face. “Then take me.”

Her hands looped around his neck as her knees rose to his waist, the material of her red skirt gathering between them. God, he could just push her panties to the side and finally feel—no. Slow. She deserved slow, and careful, and as fucking perfect as he could make it. Until she whimpered just like that, and gently scratched those green nails along the back of his neck…then—NO! For fucks sake, he wasn’t eighteen, nailing some cocktail waitress. This was Felicity. His Felicity.

And he was proving himself.

He took the few steps to the massive bed and then sat Felicity in his lap, where her breasts rubbed against his chest. Despite being thousands of miles away from Starling City, for the first time since the Gambit went down, he finally felt like he was home.

Oliver released her lips only to settle at her neck, where he set soft kisses down to her collarbone as she arched. Between that and the way his hands drifted to her knees, only to stroke back up her thighs, this time beneath her skirt, Felicity was losing all coherent thought. All she could feel, taste, smell, was Oliver. He was consuming her senses one by one. With his teeth, he drew down the straps of her halter, until the top of the lacy cups of her strapless bra were revealed. His tongue darted inside the cup, sending chills rocketing down her skin.

Impatient, she reached behind and unsnapped her bra. He waited until she nodded her ascent and then tugged her shirt over her head. Hell yes, she wanted it off. Now. Then she wanted that mouth on her skin, her breasts…everywhere.

“You’re perfect,” he said reverently, his eyes sweeping down her frame.

She loved him. She’d told him that much on the plane, when she thought she’d never have another chance, but that look in his eyes, the one that made her feel precious, had her falling deeper than ever.

“Oliver,” his name escaped as a sigh as he drew his tongue along one of her nipples, then closed his lips around it and sucked. Her fingers dug into his hair as she arched to get closer. He teased, caressed and brought a flush to her skin with his scruff before giving equal treatment to the other one, and by the time he’d lifted his head, Felicity was pulling at his shirt, desperate to get it off him. She wanted his skin against hers, to trace every line that she’d memorized.

He reached behind his head and pulled the black shirt over his head, leaving his chest beautifully bare to her…for her. She pushed his chest gently, and after he laid back slowly, his eyes darkened by the lust coursing between them, her fingers traced the lines of his scars, lingering on where he’d been shot, where he’d trusted her with his secret.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice low.

Her eyes shot to his, where the intensity of his gaze had her ready to take his pants off with her freaking feet to get to him. “You’re beautiful,” she answered. “Not that it’s the most important part of you by any means, but it certainly gets a girl distracted.” She ran her hands up the powerful lines of his biceps, and over his chest, then shoulders until she gripped his hair. “You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever known. Inside and out.”

 “And the scars?”

She smiled, trying to catch her breath. She wanted him so badly her hands nearly shook. “They tell your story. And I like knowing your story.”

 A light sparked in his eyes that she would almost call happiness. “I’ll tell you about every one of them. Everything. Anything you want to know.”

“I’d like that.” She nodded, and then leaned down to kiss him. “Later.”

“Later,” he agreed, and consumed her mouth, burying a hand in her hair, and stroking the skin of her waist with the other. He kissed her breathless, until all of her thoughts centered on the skill of his tongue, the gentle nip of his teeth at her lower lip. Kissing him was everything she’d fantasized and more. Everything about him was more.

He rolled her to her back and carefully removed her glasses, settling his delicious weight on top of her. She could have him…this for the rest of her life, if she could be brave enough to say yes, to believe that he would fight for their marriage the way he’d fought for their city.

She knew he would. Oliver didn’t do anything half way. If he was in, he was all in.

She raised her leg along his, careful with the heel of her shoe, moving just enough so that he settled against her core and she gasped at how hard he was, how much he wanted her. “Fuck,” Oliver whispered at her jawline as he thrust against her once, only a few layers of clothing between them.

His lips traced a path down her stomach, lingering wherever she squirmed, or tugged at his hair. Then his eyes locked onto hers, and she lifted her hips so he could drag her skirt down her thighs. He followed with his mouth, licking and nipping down her skin, drawing every shiver possible from her until he discarded her skirt and her heels.

Then he hooked his thumbs in the side of her panties and they followed the same path. Her breath hitched at the predatory look in his eyes as he devoured her with a glance. She sat up as he rocked back on his heels, and pressed hot kisses to his chest, tracing his Bratva tattoo with her tongue as she unbuckled his belt, and then slid his pants and boxers off his thighs.

Her mouth watered as her fingers ghosted across the lines of his abs, the same muscles that had fueled her fantasies for so long he’d become a permanent fixture there. Then she grasped his erection her breath shaky as her thumb swirled over the tip.

He hissed. “Felicity.” His arms bulged as he lifted her under her ass and moved them to the center of the bed before stripping the rest of his clothing from his legs.

A single, hot look was her only warning before he spread her thighs with powerful hands and then set his mouth to her clit.

“Oliver!” she screamed as pleasure shot through her, waking every nerve ending until she could feel the strokes of his tongue in her very fingertips.

“Yes?” he asked, looking up at her. “Tell me what you need.”

“More,” she demanded. “I need you to give me more.”

He growled against her inner thigh, and swirled his tongue around her clit. Her hips bucked against his mouth as her keening cry split the air. “I’ve dreamed about this,” he admitted as his fingers traced her opening. “Fantasized this. There hasn’t been a position or a way I haven’t already made love to you, taken you, fucked you in my mind, but the reality is so much better.” He then licked from her entrance to her clit in one long swipe. “You taste so much sweeter.”

He didn’t let her respond, simply thrust a finger inside her as he worked over her clit with his lips and tongue, then added a second finger as he stroked her, savoring the way she rode his hands, his mouth as he worshiped her. She was just as responsive as he’d dreamed, as honest in bed as out of it. She started to call his name in time with his fingers as they repeatedly curled against her g-spot. As her head started to thrash, he slipped lower, stabbing her deep with his tongue as he pressed her clit with his thumb. She came screaming his name, her back bowing off the bed, and her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him in a heavenly prison as she clenched around him.

It was such a turn on to watch that he was ready to work her up again just to see her hit that high.

She’d never had an orgasm that intense, or take her that quickly. He brought her back down carefully, coaxing the aftershocks from her body until she quieted. “I need you,” she whispered, her chest heaving. “Now.”

He crawled over her, consuming her vision as he settled between her wet thighs, so hard he was throbbing. His need for her bled his mind of every thought besides pleasuring her, branding her his. “Are you sure?” He bit out each word, giving her the final choice, still terrified somewhere that she’d reject him. He already knew he wasn’t worthy of the remarkable woman beneath him, but damn if he wasn’t going to do everything he could to keep her. He’d be whatever she needed if she’d only ask.

Her nails raked lightly down the skin of his back, dipping into the hollows before running over the curve of his ass and grabbing it, pulling him against her entrance. “Yes. I want this. I want _you_. I love you, Oliver.”

 His very blood sang, roaring through his veins, filling every cell in his body with an excruciating ache he knew only Felicity could assuage. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips, kissing her softly and swallowing her gasp as he inched inside her tight heat. Pleasure crawled up his spine demanding he thrust deep, finally take every inch of her, but he moved slowly, allowing her to adjust as he relentlessly pushed forward. This. Was. His. Home. Here, with her, covering her, protecting her, loving her.

Felicity moaned into Oliver’s mouth as he kissed her. She felt impossibly stretched, an exquisite burn that walked the line between pain and pleasure as he buried himself to the hilt.

“Felicity,” he groaned with a shaky breath, sweat beading on his forehead from the sheer exertion of holding back.

“It feels good having you inside me,” she whispered with sexy smile.

His eyes lit with love and recognition. She rotated her hips slowly, savoring the vibrations in his chest as an animalistic sound ripped free of his throat. Then he brought one of her knees up closer to her chest and pushed in even further, filling her every recess until there wasn’t a part of her that didn’t belong to Oliver.

He pulled back slowly, and then thrust in, bringing a cry from her lips as pleasure ripped through her, so sweet she could taste it on her tongue. “Again,” she pled, and he did her bidding, starting a steady rhythm that quickly had them both pushing their limits.

They were too occupied to notice the dripping sweat, too lost in cries and moans to care about where they were, or the ultimatum they’d found themselves facing. Time had no meaning than to anticipate the next thrust, until Felicity couldn’t remember a time she hadn’t been Oliver’s.

He cradled her tenderly while driving into her with a punishing rhythm that relentlessly pushed her higher toward her orgasm, never letting up, slowing down, or giving her a moment to catch her breath. The man was a machine.

And in total control.

There was still a part of him she hadn’t reached, and she wasn’t settling for less than one hundred percent of Oliver Queen.

As her muscles wound tighter, bliss overpowering almost every other sensation, she drove her heels into the bed and met him with each slide. “Let go, Oliver,” she begged. “Don’t hold back.”

His eyes flew wide. “Felicity…”

She kissed him desperately, sucking his tongue into her mouth and he moaned. “Let. Go. I can take it.” His eyes searched hers, a wildness coming to the surface that she hadn’t realized until this moment she craved more than any piece of tech. Her nails raked lightly down his sides.

He snapped, thrusting into her like a man possessed, letting loose every demon and trusting her to wash his sins away. She could do little more than hold on as he took over her body, losing himself as she finally felt like she was finding both sides of him. Arrow. Oliver Queen. One and the same, and she loved every light laugh and dark corner of his soul.

He reached between them, rubbing her clit in tight circles, pressing just when she needed it, until her body coiled…and finally burst, darkness taking over her vision momentarily as she fell apart in his arms. He breathed in her orgasm with a devastating kiss.

Her name tumbled from his lips as he joined her, his world shaking until she steadied him, her hands soothing the remaining tremors from his muscles as he rested in her arms.

As the next Ra’s Al Ghul, he might command the world, but Felicity Smoak owned him.

They lay tangled in one another’s arms until their breathing calmed and the sweat cooled. “So is that a yes?” Oliver asked her, his fingers running through her hair as her head lay pillowed on his heart.

“I don’t remember you asking.” She smirked, bracing her chin on her hands and looking up at him, the candlelight making her even more beautiful.

“I’d get down on one knee, but that’s never been us,” he said slowly. “We’ve always been partners, equals, which is something I cherish as much as I do you. And I swear, I will protect you, adore you, love you for every day of my life. Marry me, Felicity.”

“Yes,” she answered, leaning up to kiss him gently. “But I’m not Mrs. Demon’s head, or even Mrs. Queen. I don’t care what title you have attached to you, Oliver. I just want you. All of you.”

A cocky grin came over his face. “So you’re satisfied that I really want you? That this isn’t just for the ultimatum?”

Her nose scrunched. “I mean, if that’s the best you can do,” she teased. “I’m not against another attempt.”

His mouth dropped and he laughed, warming Felicity’s soul like nothing else could. “Round number two it is,” he smiled, and she giggled…until his tongue was inside her mouth, and his fingers were driving her toward another orgasm. Then all thoughts of laughter faded.

The next day, after the most bizarre ceremony Felicity had ever seen, let alone been apart of, she was officially Felicity Smoak-Queen.

Or as her husband liked to call her… the most beautiful Mrs. Demon’s head ever.

           

           

 

           

           

           

           

           

           

 

           


End file.
